Two hours later Leslie Cairns had been initiated into the Travelers’ jolly sorority and had acquitted herself with credit. She had done herself proud in the cream-puff eating test, which consisted of blindfolding the victim and giving her a cream puff to eat from her hands. She had nobly pushed the required penny over the floor with her nose, she had drunk a cup of deadly poison urged upon her by her initiators which had turned out to be very strong sage tea, and she had performed other ridiculously difficult stunts with giggling zest and finish.

By the time the dinner bell rang Leslie was feeling more at home with the bevy of girls she had once scorned than she had ever dreamed she might. With the exception of Helen Trent the original eleven Travelers were present. Since their particular initial sorority had been enlarged to nineteen members Leslie had been received into it as the twentieth member. This meant the second chapter to which Phil and Barbara belonged might also have the privilege of electing a twentieth member to their chapter. The new chapter chosen the previous June were also in line for a twentieth member.

Neither by word nor sign had the merry party of girls shown themselves to be aware of the fact that Leslie was returning to Hamilton under unusual circumstances. Everything was ignored save that she was an honored candidate for admission into the Travelers’ sorority.

Despite the fact that Room 15 was to pass into the possession of a mysterious senior who might appear at any time to claim it, Miss Remson had urged the Travelers to make it their initiation headquarters. This time there had been no hanging of heavy curtains over the doors of the room. The preponderance of the students to reside at Wayland Hall had not yet arrived on the campus. There was therefore small possibility of anyone being disturbed by the merry-making in Fifteen.

In honor of the occasion the Wayland Hall Travelers had converted one of the couch beds into a throne such as had been erected on a previous occasion when Miss Susanna Hamilton had first visited Marjorie in her room at the Hall and been introduced to Miss Remson.

The middle place upon the throne had been reserved for Leslie. She had been impressively informed that, when she should have courageously passed through the terrible ordeal ahead of her, she would then be eligible to the middle place on the throne. Miss Susanna Hamilton and Miss Remson occupied the seats on the right and left of the glorified dais, looking like a pair of small bright-eyed birds in full plumage.

Marjorie had fondly ordered the party to be a dress affair. In consequence Miss Remson was resplendent in a ravishing gray satin gown which Leila had brought from Europe as a present to her old friend. Miss Susanna had on the wisteria satin gown which she had worn at Castle Dean on the previous Christmas day. The Travelers had decked themselves in their prettiest afternoon frocks. They resembled a flock of bright-hued butterflies which had suddenly made pause in Marjorie’s and Jerry’s old-time haunt before resuming their flight.

When the gay revelers trooped down to dinner, which was to be served to them at a special long table, the attention of the few students in the dining-room immediately became riveted upon the merry little company. Besides themselves there were eight other girls in the dining-room. Of these eight only two pairs of eyes were directed in good-natured amusement at the vivacious table full of girls. The other six pairs held a variety of expressions running from curiosity to dark envy.

“Catch Miss Remson allowing us to have any such noisy party,” Julia Peyton muttered jealously to Clara Carter as the two girls left the dining room. A rippling burst of laughter from the guest table further fanned the displeasure that flamed in Julia’s breast against the merry diners. She was particularly incensed at seeing Leslie Cairns among them.

“Miss Dean and Miss Macy must have come back to the Hall again. That’s the reason for the pow-wow they’ve been having in 15,” Clara Carter surmised as they started up the stairs. “That little old woman in lavender must be Miss Remson’s sister. One is about as homely as the other. It’s queer, though, about that Miss Cairns being with them.”

“Very queer; altogether too queer,” was Julia’s bitter retort. “She has no right to be here at the Hall. If she comes here again I shall make an objection to Miss Remson. She’s an expelled student. Besides the way she sneaked into the gym under cover of a mask at the Romp was simply outrageous. I can’t understand how Miss Remson can overlook such things.”

“I heard that she lived at Wayland Hall until she was expelled and that her father was a multi-millionaire. Probably Miss Remson has a healthy respect for her father’s money. Maybe she is visiting Miss Remson. If she is, you can’t say a word.” Clara pointed out sagely.

A baffled expression crossed Julia’s frowning features. “It won’t take me long to find out what she is doing here,” she sullenly boasted. “She is entirely to blame for my falling-out with Doris. It was over her Doris and I disagreed. I hope Doris will someday understand that I only tried to be her friend in warning her against Miss Cairns.”

“Doris Monroe is a very selfish girl. I don’t intend to bother being nice to her at all this year,” Clara declared, pursing her lips in disapproval.

“Don’t be alarmed. She won’t bother herself about you, or me, either,” Julia threw open the door of their room and stalked into it. She flung herself sulkily into a chair, her pale, moon-eyed face full of vengeful spleen. “I detest that hateful crowd of P.G.’s!” she exclaimed. “They do precisely as they please, here. We other students have no rights. What good does it do to assert oneself to Miss Remson? She is hand in glove with them.”

“I think it would be a good idea for us to change houses,” was Clara’s meditative suggestion. She had seated herself in a chair opposite Julia with an air of great wisdom. “It’s not too late to engage board somewhere else on the campus.”

“What are you talking about?” Julia turned a contemptuous gaze upon her chum. “I’ll say there is not a vacancy on the campus by now.”

“Well, we could find a couple of girls who would be glad to exchange houses with us. Wayland Hall is considered the best house on the campus.” There was crafty method in Clara’s suggestion. Secretly she had no desire to leave the Hall. Knowing Julia’s stubborn contrariness she had but to propose making a change in order to clinch her roommate’s determination not to do so.

“You are correct in saying it’s the best house on the campus. When you see me leaving it because of a crowd of girls like the one down stairs, you will see something startling. Last year I endured a great deal of unfairness rather than be continually making complaints. This year I shall do differently. I intend to begin this very evening,” Julia announced with belligerent decision.

“What are you going to do?” Clara focussed eager attention upon her companion. In spite of hers and Julia’s frequent disagreements she could be relied upon to do battle under Julia’s banner.

“I’m going to unpack my traveling bag, first of all.” Julia rose with a sudden burst of combative energy. “If those girls begin to be noisy when they come up stairs I shall go straight down stairs to Miss Remson and demand that she does something about it.”

“Suppose she should be upstairs with them? You know yourself that she was up there a long time before dinner. And her sister was with her.” Clara had kept a vigilant watch upon the movements of the company in 15 through a discreetly narrow opening in their own door.

“Then I shall reprimand her before the whole crowd in 15 for not keeping better order in the house.”

“You wouldn’t dare do that?” Clara challenged in a half admiring tone.

“Oh, yes, I should. Who is Miss Remson? A manager. Well, what is a manager but an upper servant? I’d certainly not be afraid to speak my mind to our housekeeper at home. That’s all Miss Remson is. What she needs is to be told her place, and be made to keep it.”

“I’ve often thought the same thing,” Clara refused to be subservient to Julia in opinion. “Did you notice the other students in the dining room tonight?” she asked with a knowing glance toward Julia.

“No. What about them?” Julia paused in the midst of her unpacking to look sharply at her Titian-haired roommate.

“Every single one of them acted as though they didn’t think much of that P. G. crowd. I kept watch of them. It seems to me,” Clara tilted her flame-colored head to one side, a sure indication that she was planning mischief, “that it would be a pretty good plan for us to start a crowd of our own this year at the Hall. If we could count on as many as half of the students at the Hall to stand by us, we could make Miss Remson play fairly with us. She’d not dare favor that one crowd above us.”

“That’s a good idea.” Julia looked impressed. She turned from laying out her belongings on the study table and leaned against it, eyeing Clara speculatively. She began counting on her fingers: “One, two, three, four, five of those Bertram students. Then there are Miss Harper and Miss Mason; seven. Five of the Sanford P. G. crowd; twelve. Doris Monroe makes thirteen. Of course a few other students in the house will stick to them. Not more than six or seven at most. Gussie Forbes isn’t popular in this house except with the Sanford and Bertram crowds. You know the sophs at the Hall voted against her at the election of class officers last fall.”

“But they voted for Doris Monroe,” Clara reminded with a frown, “and now Doris has gone over to the P. G. crowd.”

“Yes, and she is not going to gain a thing by it, either,” was Julia’s satisfied prophesy. “Most of the sophs who voted for Doris don’t like Miss Dean and her pals. They can’t stand the calm way those girls have of trying to be the whole thing, and run everything. Annie told me today that there were to be nine new students at the Hall, all freshies but one. Those girls we saw tonight in the dining room must be freshies. Tomorrow we’ll make it a point to get acquainted with the freshies. It’s really our duty as upper classmen.”

“Yes, indeed,” echoed Clara. “By the time Doris Monroe comes back we may have our own crowd well started. We might form a sorority.” Her mechanical tones, which Muriel and Jerry had naughtily compared to a phonograph, rose exultantly. “You could be the president of it,” she accorded magnanimously, “and I would be the vice-president. We could get up a really exclusive, social club and entertain a lot—and be popular.” Her pal’s eyes gleamed at the prospect of popularity. It was the dream of both girls to enjoy a popularity on the campus equal to if not greater than that of Doris Monroe, though neither possessed any of the necessary requisites.

“We’ll do it. We can get up a better sorority than that old Travelers’ club, and not half try,” Julia predicted with supreme egotism. “This is the way we’ll do. We’ll wait until the Hall is full, then we’ll select the girls here that we want for the club and send them an invitation to a luncheon at the Ivy. We’ll have very handsome engraved invitations, and I’ll preside at the luncheon. After we have the sorority well-started we can give plays and shows just for amusement. We shan’t try to make money. Leave that to those beggarly Travelers. We’ll make our entertainments strictly invitation affairs. Miss Dean and her crowd have simply ruined the social atmosphere of Hamilton by welfare experiments. The object of our club shall be to restore it. Let me tell you we’ll have plenty of sympathizers. Just wait. Doris Monroe will be very sorry yet that she didn’t stick to us.”